Accidental
by Rick K'Tish
Summary: Kakashi accidentally travels back in time. Because sometimes you just need to trip and fall into a magic portal to get things done. Semi-crack-ish, maybe, mostly adventure, and I do promise some feels (or a lot).
1. Teaser

**Just a quick sneak-peak at my next project :) I'm trying to get everything I've done in the last couple years up as quickly as possible, in the hope that it will help me finish them without getting distracted too easily :P**

 **Disclaimer: if I owned Naruto, there would be more torture, and more feels. (I know, you didn't think it was possible, but I would MAKE it be!)**

It was really just supposed to be a normal, cut-and-dry mission.

It wasn't even anything life-threatening.

That was probably why they let him go, in spite of being the Hokage.

Unfortunately, regardless of predictions, expectations, and intentions, that cut-and-dry mission was how he'd come to be where he now found himself.

"Don't worry, kid; we'll get you somewhere nice and warm, and then we can have a nice long conversation about just what you think you were doing hanging out by your old man's grave in _this_."

Rain pounded down on him, beating tattoos into his chest and left side. Even though it made his clothes cool to the touch, everything felt hot and oddly dry, as though the rainwater were evaporating right off of him. When he dared to crack his eyes a little, everything seemed vague and distorted; the world was not supposed to be this big, he was sure of it. And why was he so... oddly proportioned? He could feel that his limbs were not where he was accustomed to them being. Add to that the fact that he was being carried...

 _Genjutsu? Must be..._

But heck, he was bored anyway. Might as well go along for the ride for at least a little while.

"C'mon, kiddo, what were you tryin' to do? Follow him up? Jeeze..."

Wait. That voice was...

Taking more effort than it really should have, Kakashi tilted his gaze upward to verify what could not possibly be true.

"J'riya? Bu'... y'r dead..."

 **I should hopefully have the next part up in a few days, and I've already got a couple chapters on this, so... we'll just have to see how it goes! Fare thee well!**


	2. Chapter I

**Here's the first actual chapter. First scene is the same as the teaser, just from Jiraiya's POV instead of Kakashi's. Second chapter is already almost finished too, so... :)**

 **DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never has been, never will be.**

Jiraiya frowned at the small form in his arms as he ran. Minato's urgent message, sent by word of mouth through their shared summons— "Kakashi's not at home; please help search"— had obviously not ranked high on his list of favorite toad moments. Minato had gone to search their favorite chunin's preferred training grounds while Jiraiya, following some odd instinct he swore he'd gotten from spending too much time around depressed children, had gone to Sakumo's grave in search of their little gallivanting silvertop.

He'd found the seven-year-old passed out in front of the gravestone, fingers resting on the inscription as though he'd been tracing it, face flushed and wracked with the highest fever the Toad Sage had ever seen in his life. He hadn't taken more than a moment to think; he'd just scooped up the boy and started running.

It was an unfortunate thing that the graveyard was so far outside the village. It was supposed to give mourners in their processions time to take in the beauty that continued after their loss, and find comfort in the forest and its constancy. Even at top speed, it could take a special jounin ten minutes or more to reach just the gates, let alone the record six minutes from there to the hospital.

At the rate Jiraiya was going, he'd make it in five.

He noticed the little masked boy shift slightly in his arms and started to deliver the lecture he'd been planning since he got the news, but then he saw the look in those steel gray eyes, clouded as they were with fever. He decided to begin with some tough-ish comfort and just throw in a little threat for spice. "Don't worry, kid; we'll get you somewhere warm and dry, and then we can have a nice long conversation about just what you think you were doing hanging out by your old man's grave in _this_."

The last Hatake's eyes drifted to almost-closed, his brow twitching in confusion. Jiraiya almost laughed; always trying to assess the situation, Kakashi was. Good luck trying to do that with a fever that was threatening seizures.

Instead he shook his head, trying to fathom the boy's thinking. The storm had been threatening for days— everyone had been preparing— and he'd decided it was a good time to get over his grudge and come visit his dad's grave _now?_ "C'mon, kiddo, what were you tryin' to do? Follow him up? Jeeze..."

Another confused twitch; This time there was a little clarity in the dark eyes as Kakashi tilted his head to see who was carrying him. His brow furrowed as deeply as a seven-year-old's could, with just that slight one-sided quirk to show he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. Jiraiya saw the mask move down with the jaw as the mouth opened, but the words that came out nearly stopped his heart.

"J'riya? Bu'... y'r dead..."

Kakashi's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

Jiraiya started running faster.

The first thing Kakashi was aware of was smell.

(Of course it was. He was a Hatake, after all.)

 _Good;_ he thought, noting the mutedness of the antiseptic and vomit mixture that always permeated hospital air, stirred intermittently by the smell of earth, slimy things, sweat, playing cards, onsen soap, ramen, burned food, strawberries, and sunshine. _They remembered the mask._

Because he _was_ a Hatake, and like all Hatakes since records could indicate, strong scents— like those usually found in a hospital— could assault his heightened olfactory system so brutally that he risked asphyxiation simply because of how powerfully he perceived it. He literally would be unable to breathe without choking at the potency. It was why the clan had developed the seal that was embroidered on the inside of all of his masks to limit how much scent could come through. Sakumo, who had despised having to cover his face, had opted to tattoo the seal on his upper lip (with some modifications to cover a projected area surrounding his nose instead of only that which was immediately touching the seal) in an ink so close to his own skin tone that even he couldn't find it when he looked in the mirror. Kakashi on the other hand found this distasteful, and so reverted to the age-old practice of mask wearing. He figured if it was good enough for his great-great-great-grandfather, it was good enough for him. Besides, it was better for teasing the world with.

He always had been told he seemed an old soul.

(Until he'd reached his twenties, of course; then he started being called childish most of the time.)

Eventually sound made a feeble attempt to join his conscious senses. Snippets, as though his ears were still deciding whether or not they really wanted to work, drifted down on the landscape if his mind like snow into treetops, trying desperately to form a solid layer upon which reality might rest, only to crumble through the gaps between the leaves as soon as it got too heavy and rush to meet the ground with an undignified _sklerpt._

"... fever..."

"... in the rain..."

"Thunder... father... check on him..."

"... still a _kid_..."

"Idiot geniuses..."

It occurred to him after some time of this going on that the problem might not be his ears at all, but rather his state of consciousness— or rather, lack thereof. Upon reaching this conclusion he decided to experiment upon this notion by pushing himself to wakefulness. Granted, it was easier said than done, but he woke just in time to hear the impossible voice from before say "Thought I was _dead._ "

"'S 'cause y' _were_ dead," Kakashi interjected tiredly, forcing his eyes open. He was thankful for the low light in the room; anything bright was sure to trigger an explosive headache right now, given how the rest of him felt. "Not more'n... how long I been out, four hours? An' y' said 'Kumo's grave, so fi'teen... 'atever, y' were a' leas' sev'n y'rs gone... mebbe eigh'... las' I checked. Not too long 'go. Less'n a week. I think."

Sensing the stunned silence of the group he could sense was in the room with him, Kakashi gave up on blinking his eyes into obedience and turned his head to look at the blurry shapes of once-familiar people. "An' did I smell M'nato-nii an' Kush'na-nee? Y've bin dead, what, a'mos' t'enty-'hree? T'enty-four years? N'ruto's ge'in' older all 'a time... 'Afta give 'm the hat soon, b'fore 'e blows 'imself up wit' unna t'ose seals 'e k'ps messin' wit'..." He frowned, finally registering the sounds coming out of his mouth. "Could one 'f y' tell me jes' w't cr'wled inna m' mout' an' died? I can' spea' prop'rly 'ntil i' c'mes ou'."

For several seconds, none of the blurry figures moved or said anything. He couldn't even hear them breathing. Finally one of them spoke.

"Something's wrong."

Kakashi furrowed his brow once more in recognition as she approached him, her hands glowing with green chakra.

"Ts'nade? W't 're _you_ doin' here? Y're s'posed ta be a' the Kage Summit wi' the other old-timers pr'tennin' 'a be r'tired..."

Cool hands touched his still burning forehead, and everything faded into black.

 **There it is. Thoughts anyone? Good, bad, indifferent? Here's a quick translation of Kakashi's brain-dead mumbling:**

 **That's because you** ** _were_** **dead.**

 **Not more than... how long have I been out, four hours? And you said Sakumo's grave, so fifteen... whatever, you were at least seven years gone... maybe eight... last I checked. Not too long ago. Less than a week. I think.**

 **And did I smell Minato-nii and Kushina-nee? You've been dead, what, almost twenty-three? Twenty-four years? Naruto's getting older all the time... I'll have to give him the hat soon, before he blows himself up with one of those seals he keeps messing with...**

 **Could one of you tell me just what crawled into my mouth and died? I can't speak properly until it comes out.**

 **The idea is that the strain of time travel has kind of scrambled his brain, so he's way out of it. High fever, little control of facial muscles, etc... whatever.**

 **That's all for now :)**


	3. Chapter II: Insanity or possession?

**This was typed on my phone.  
**

 **I just got a new phone.**

 **I'm still breaking in the new autocorrect.**

 **I've done my best to catch everything, but just in case I've missed any:**

 **Tree is the**

 **Readymade is Tsunade**

 **Transfer is Tsunade**

 **Nitwits is Jiraiya (irony, anyone?)**

 **Kafka is Kakashi**

 **Kakadu is Kakashi**

 **Karachi is Kakashi**

 **Kalashnikov is Kakashi**

 **Basically, anything random that doesn't make sense and starts with a 'K' is Kakashi.**

 **This phone does this other weird thing where it puts a space after every punctuation AND before every word, so if I missed any double spaces after commas, question marks, exclamation points, dashes, etc. just tell me and I'll try to fix it.**

 **Also:**

 **This was typed on my phone.**

 **(Didn't I mention that already?)**

 **This means that I have absolutely no clue how long this is in pages or words, because if I try to highlight something to check the word count, I end up accidentally deleting things 100% of the time.**

 **It's pretty bad.**

 **So, I'm betting this chapter is pretty short, but I really have no idea, so forgive me? Maybe?**

 **And one last note (sorry this is so long):**

 **My deepest apologies for the changeable writing voice. I have a tendency to unconsciously imitate whatever I'm reading; you should have seen my texts while I was reading Pride and Prejudice. Kessapearl teased me mercilessly. Right now, my class is reading Les Misérables. You can imagine what this is doing to my phraseology. I promise I'm trying to maintain a constant voice, but it's something I've always struggled with. If you see any inconsistencies that bug you hugely, please alert me and I will endeavor to amend them to the best of my (obviously lacking) ability.**

 ** **And now, without further ado, ON TO THE STORY!****

 **(I lied. A little further ado:)**

 **DISCLAIMER: Don't own, never have, never will.**

 **For real this time, ON TO THE STORY!**

Silence reigned in the hospital room as they all stared at the once again unconscious form of Hatake Kakashi.

Tsunade looked at Jiraiya.

Jiraiya looked at Minato.

Minato looked at Kushina.

Kushina said, "Well, _that_ was different."

Minato stared at his girlfriend. There were many times that he appreciated her upbeat attitude and lighthearted perspective on... well, _everything_ — but this was not one of them.

The young jounin had been on the verge of panic since he'd gone to check on his apprentice and discovered him to be missing seven hours previously. He'd only felt it pertinent, since the chunin silvertop was... less than fond of thunder, to visit him and see how he was doing, regardless of the state of the weather— indeed, because of it. Instead of comforting Kakashi, however, he'd

"Different?" Jiraiya scoffed, looking at Kushina aghast. "He's _seven!_ Deciding he doesn't like eggplant anymore would be _different._ Wanting to take baths of his own volition instead of being bribed into it would be _different._ This— this is—" He broke off, no longer able to speak as he grappled with the situation.

"Insane?" Minato offered as a suitable description.

"That's what I'd call telling people you saw a few days ago they've been dead longer than you've been alive," Tsunade acknowledged. "We need to get a Yamanaka in here to check him out. There's no physical reason as far as I can detect. It must be a purely mental thing."

Kushina frowned. "Let's not be too hasty. Maybe it has something to do with the fever?"

Tsunade looked dubious. "It's not uncommon for fevers like this to trigger hallucinations..."

"But?" Jiraiya prompted.

"Well..." She trailed off, unwilling to point out what was sure to only cause them all more pain.

Minato sighed. Being a genius seemed to become more and more of a burden as he got older. "Behavior patterns of interaction. We all know what he'd be like if any of us were to die tomorrow; did he seem like that to anyone?"

They all looked contemplative for a minute.

"He did seem almost... accepting. As though even if we were dead, he wasn't bothered by it anymore. That's... not like him." Jiraiya looked troubled as he spoke. He crossed his arms.

"So what's going on?"

Silence again.

Finally Kushina suggested, "We could wake him up and ask?"

"I still think a Yamanaka is our best bet." Tsunade said firmly.

"But that's so invasive!" Kushina countered.

That was the thing about Uzumaki

"But we have a potentially possessed seven-year-old with a high Chunin skill level who needs to be evaluated in case one of the other villages has managed to infiltrate through one of our most skilled operatives!"

"They shouldn't even know about—"

"But what if somehow they _do_?"

Minato watched the two arguing women like a tennis match, occasionally sending Jiraiya desperate glances begging for help. The toad sage was blatantly ignoring him, as well as everything else. All he did was stare at his old friend's son, lying tiny and vulnerable in the comparatively enormous hospital bed.

Giving up on his former sensei, Minato threw his hands up in frustration and yelled, "We'll do both!"

Tsunade and Kushina stopped talking as each other and turned to stare at him.

"Look, your original ideas were to either ask him what's going on or bring in a Yamanaka to tell us, right?"

The women nodded as one.

"Well, even when they're not inside someone's head, the Yamanaka clan are experts in behavioral patterns. So if we bring in one of theirs to watch while we talk to him, they should be able to tell us set least whether or not he's telling the truth."

There was a charged moment in which it seemed the proffered plan would be dismissed and the telling would resume before Tsunade nodded and Kushina followed her lead,accepting. Minato sagged with relief and sent a shadow clone to retrieve a Yamanaka from the T&I department.

A ten minutes and an explanation later, with Yamanaka Inoki close at hand, they all congregated around Kakashi's bedside, watching as Tsunade revived the boy. Her eyebrows raised when she touched his forehead to remove the genjutsu shed used to put him out.

"His fever's dropped." She glanced at them all, then murmured ' _Kai_.' To her patient she said, "Come on, brat. Time to wake up."

"Mmm..."

They watched his eyes scrunch shut, and what they could tell of his nose beneath the ever-present mask crinkled adorably. Steel gray was reluctantly revealed, one at a time, and then widened in surprise.

"Mngm... Mwass go'n on? Y'r all s'ill 'ere?"

The four who had initially gathered carefully did not look at each other as Tsunade handed the boy a glass of water. Inoki looked contemplative in a way Minato wasn't really sure he liked. He didn't really know Inoki all that well. He knew that his son, Inoichi, who would be clan head of Yamanaka after Inoki, was only a few years older than himself, but he had never really talked to either of them. It put him slightly in guard.

Kakashi took the glass gratefully and dank it through his mask, as was his habit. It had taken Minato a while to adjust to the fact that Kakashi literally wore his mask for everything except bathing and eating, and even the former was subject to change based on whether they went to a public bath or if they were at home. Now only Tsunade had to control the weird look she almost made at the odd habit.

"Better?" She asked instead as Kakashi apparently dished the water around his mouth a little before swallowing.

"Much," he replied. "Maa... Who'd have thought having a dry mouth could make it so hard to speak clearly?"

Minato and Kushina stiffened. That was _not_ Kakashi's speech pattern, by any stretch of the imagination. Since when had he had a speech tic?

"Now," the seven-year-old continued, "I'd like to ask you all a few questions. First of all, how did I get here?"

"Jiraiya carried you." Minato wasn't sure what to do with his eyes; looking into his apprentice's was somehow extraordinarily disconcerting at the moment, but at the same time it felt weird not to look at Kakashi while he spoke to him.

Either unaware of or ignoring his sensei's dilemma, Kakashi waved him off. "Maa, I know that much; but what about before that?"

"Minato went to check on you, but you weren't home. We all helped him look," Kushina smiled falsely, obviously nervous. In any other situation, Minato would have facepalmed; this was why his girlfriend could never do undercover missions. As it was, he was too stressed trying not to twitch at the uncharacteristic tic. Kakashi was using "maa" more often than Kushina added "dattebane" to the end of her own sentences.

"You were in the graveyard," Jiraiya spoke warily, "Next to your father."

They expected his shoulders to stiffen at the comment, possibly followed by denials and angry silence, but that didn't happen. Instead Kakashi's brow furrowed in contemplation.

"I never..." He looked worried. Then suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh... _Oh._ So _that's_ what that was..."

"That's what _what_ was?"

Kakashi suddenly looked... sheepish? He smiled at them all disconcertingly.

"It seems I've been operating under an incorrect assumption. Would someone please retrieve the Hokage?"

 **Interpretation of Kakashi's drunken dry-mouth speak: "Maa... what's going on? You're all still here?"**

 **Hope it's not terrible. Please review.**

 ** **Until next chapter! :)****


	4. Chapter III: How we got here

**Sorry it's taken so long to get this up. RL is trying to kill me, and I haven't gotten a lot of time to write recently. And I also had to deal with the little realization that a lot of the things Kakashi does in this fic make absolutely no sense, and then come to terms with the fact that I'm attempting to 'loosen up' by writing something ridiculous, so I don't get to waste energy caring about nonsensical decisions.**

 **A quick apology: the voice gets a little weird after "He had found himself at an impasse." I was listening to TED talks while I wrote, and I unconsciously picked up the vernacular and speech pattern of the british researcher I was listening to. I tried to fix it, but it's a little wonky still, so... yeah. It changes again after "Practically ancient." I've been reading Tolkien. His writing voice has infected me temporarily. Sorry about that.**

Kakashi waited patiently in the silence of the hospital room, occasionally eye-smiling at the familiar faces of the apparently-no-longer-dead around him.

How had he gotten into this situation?

Well, he'd just figured that out himself.

It was quite simple, really. You see, it had all been that mission.

 _ **FLASHBACK**_

He sighed. Being hokage was best described in the words of Nara Shikamaru, his head strategist:

 _Such_ a _drag._

And so, here he was, Rokudaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato, wandering in the woods on a self-assigned C-rank mission to gather specific healing and teamaking herbs from the Forest of Death. Obviously because Tsunade needed them, not because he was bored.

Of course, though, if he happened across an irregularity that made his little excursion take a little bit longer... well, it was just his duty to investigate, wasn't it?

Kakashi sucked in a deep breath, taking in the glorious scent of impending doom around him. _This_ was why the Forest of Death had become his favorite place since he'd been instated as Hokage. Not that he enjoyed having to fight for his life, of course, but he was a child of war. He'd become a genin when he was only five years old, and joined the ranks of soldiers on the front lines not too long after. Nothing had changed upon his advancement to Chunin a year later, except that he was helping command battles some of the time instead of just joining the cannon fodder. When he'd hit Jonin he'd been given his first major espionage mission, and received his most famous battle scars because of it. When peace finally came, he had no idea what to do with it, and so kindled war in the hearts of those around him to make up for his lacking understanding. Now, as the first Hokage to enter the position during the odd peacetime following the Fourth Shinobi World War, he just wasn't sure what to do with himself.

And so, against what he was sure would be his better judgement were he only slightly more sane, he followed the trail on the ground before him that seemed to show something vaguely human-shaped being dragged, struggling, deeper into the forest. It must have been made earlier in the morning.

 _An enemy nin?_ He wondered. No one in the village had been reported missing.

An hour later, he was second-guessing himself; not only had nothing jumped out at him yet, he also seemed to have passed the halfway point a while ago, and was now _exiting_ the Forest of Death.

That was just inconvenient.

If he came back without those plants, Tsunade would have his head.

 _Maybe I should do that... no, bad Kakashi; putting yourself in life threatening situations when you're bored upsets the therapists._

 _... Why does the Hokage have to see a therapist every other week, anyway?_

Shaking away the random thoughts, Kakashi looked around. He was getting near the edge of the forest now. Probably on the side closest to the graveyard, he realized. _Fascinating_.

He kept following the trail as it led out of the forest and indeed right into the graveyard. Headstones had been crushed in the wake of someone's jutsu, clearly powerful and destructive as they struggled against whatever was dragging them back and away from the forest.

As he neared the end of the trail, still going at a conversational stroll, Kakashi realized that something felt _off_. Something in the air, in the sky perhaps...

He realized what it was just as he reached the end of the trail. The headstone there was unmarked by the destruction leading up to that point.

 _The sun is in the wrong place._

It should have been early afternoon by now. Based on where the sun was, though, it could only be mid to late morning. It didn't make sense. And then there was the headstone.

 _HATAKE SAKUMO_

 _DIED BY HONORABLE JUMONJI GIRI_

 _For honor,_

 _For family,_

 _For friends._

Before the headstone, in the earth over the grave itself, an odd seal had been drawn. By no means a seal master, he still recognized several elemental symbols— mostly water and wind— and something that looked like _time._

Kakashi's instincts, trained by a lifetime off danger and deception, suddenly _twanged_ an alert through all of his senses, sending a shiver down his spine. He didn't pause to assess anything, only exploded into motion, running back the direction he'd come with all the speed of any Kage worth his salt in his prime. Behind him there was a _fizhhing_ sound around his father's grave.

The trail had disappeared.

The headstones that had been broken up and scattered around were now whole.

Trees that had been scarred and scraped now showed no sign of damage.

The day was growing colder, the sunlight thinner as he ran, as though the sun were sinking rapidly back toward the east, taking all its heat and light with it.

 _This is not normal._

All of these things Kakashi registered as he ran furiously back through the Forest of Death. That seal was like nothing he'd ever seen before; he'd have to get Naruto to come and look at it. He needed to—

Some force snatched at him from behind and he leaped forward with renewed vigor. Whatever it was made three more swings at him and he lurched away each time. Finally as he came to the point that he'd initially started following the trail, he was suddenly yanked backwards by his jounin vest.

 _It's me!_ He realized, lashing out at whatever it was with a doton jutsu even as he was being bodily dragged on his back through the Forest. _I'm the trail!_

Jutsu after jutsu he unleashed, twisting and turning, fighting to regain his footing; several times he grabbed on to some piece of the forest in an attempt to hold himself there, only to find it torn from its base, useless in his hands as he continued to be dragged backwards.

" _Don't... you... even..."_ he growled, snatching headstones now, digging his hands into the dirt as it zipped past. Closer and closer he zoomed, gripping desperately, never able to hold on for long, now digging his fingers into nothing but grass and earth and loose gravel and then—

 _Success!_

He careened to a halt just a few feet before the stone. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon.

The world was stunningly, terribly silent.

Kakashi knelt there in his own crater, gauging the air. Slowly, cautiously he stood, half expecting the invisible seal-beast to snatch at him again. Nothing happened.

He took half a step backward and tensed as his senses screamed at him once more as the sensation of a large beast growling at him shot down his spine. He forced himself to be still; he'd already seen that running would avail him nothing. Slowly, he returned to his previous standing position.

He had found himself at an impasse with the seal-beast. He couldn't move away, but he _wouldn't_ move forward. Nothing could be achieved by simply waiting there, because he knew from experience that literally _no one_ would come to the cemetery for at _least_ a few days, unless someone in the village broke pattern and decided on a completely impromptu visit.

Removed of all other options, he pulled out his current re-read and stood, completely still except for the occasional turning of pages.

Three volumes later (and it was a good thing he kept the entire series sealed on him at all times, else he'd have gotten bored a LONG time ago), Kakashi was beginning to grow irritated.

Not that he let it show at all.

The sun had yet to move from its place, barely peeking over the tops of the trees to the east. It continued to filter through the leafy tops of Konoha's oldest friends, leaving an imprint of shadows speckled with light patterned all across the graveyard. The leaves rustled, the shadows moved, yet no time seemed to pass at all, no matter how stubbornly he kept his nose in his beloved Icha Icha. He realized that the shadows of the leaves were moving in predictable patterns, shifting first one series of ways, then its exact reverse. He was living in a forever-replaying moment, which occurred and then undid itself in the time that he took to read a single page.

Normally he would have tried to out stubborn the invisible sense, but at that very moment he felt a strange twinge in his heartstrings, like one of his dogs was just _begging_ for another treat. He decided it must be a sign of his advancing age that he didn't fight the sense too hard; he was nearly thirty-four, after all. Practically ancient. Besides, he was curious as to the nature of the seal on his father's grave, and he could only see so much of it over the mound of debris in front of him. It couldn't hurt to look, certainly, could it?

Shrugging, he tucked his precious book back into its seal and strode up the small hill of dirt. He'd only started a single step down the other side, however, when something happened that had not occurred except in cases of excessive inebriation or severe blood loss since Kakashi had been very small indeed:

He tripped.

Everything seemed to happen at once very slowly and very quickly.

Kakashi felt the tip of his sandal catch on something either steep or large enough that he couldn't have lifted his foot over it without moving it backward. As his forward momentum continued and left said foot behind, his eyes widened with surprise. He looked down and saw the clump of dirt that held his toes captive, and by the time he looked up again, it was already too late to turn to catch himself in one of the many falls all ninja practiced from their earliest academy days. In a split instant decision, he stared at the fast-approaching seal that seemed by some optical illusion or other to be hurtling toward his face unreasonably quickly, committing it forever to his memory. Then he closed his eyes and turned his head to avoid the inevitable dirt from breaching his eyelids, and—

 _nothing._

 _ **END FLASHBACK**_

And so, he found himself in his current predicament. Now the only question was... what to do about it? There were so many things to weigh and consider both individually and as a larger whole; so many possibilities, so many undesirable outcomes. For now, though, he supposed that he'd have to simply wait until Sarutobi got here.

In the meantime, he was content to see how nervous he could make his former sensei and related parties. Oh, the evil things he could do to them while he was here... the possibilities were quite probably endless. But which to do first...?

 **Sorry for the lack of plot progression. I hope to get another chapter up sometime in the next month or so, and then you'll get a good bit of actual story (I hope). We'll see how it goes.**

 ** **Until next time!****


	5. Chapter IV: Let the Trolling Begin

**Ehehehe…**

 **Sorry…**

 **I'm a senior in high school. I spent the summer getting outside credits so I can graduate, and now HW is consuming both my waking and sleeping hours.**

 **I'm actually** _ **dreaming**_ **about doing it most nights. -_-**

 **Anyway, this time I actually have a little extra written, so I should be able to get the next couple chapters out in a fairly short amount of time. (lol, that's joke— life is trying to kill me not-so-slowly)**

 **Just as a kind of disclaimer, I actually have no idea where I'm going with this story. I have no plot outline, no plans, nothing. That's exactly what killed my PJO/HP story** _ **The Tournament of the Treaty,**_ **so I'm trying to actually lead up to some kind of overarching theme or something to avoid having this brainchild die in its youth as well. I love all of my brainchildren, and I hate to see them die.**

Sarutobi Hiruzen strode brusquely through the dark streets of Konohagakure no Sato, his thoughts swirling. The vague reports he'd received from Minato throughout the evening and into the night were nothing less than baffling to the poor desk Chunin, with little comprehensibility between them had he not known his student's student as well as he did:

 _K gone, looking_

 _J found by HS, going to med_

 _K not self, retrieving Ymnka_

And now this last one:

 _K requests meeting. Be wary._

What could possibly be so wrong with the young Hatake that Minato was telling _him_ of all people to be wary? Prodigee the silvertop might be, but he was still a very young Chunin, and very small for his age to boot. What could he, the Sandaime Hokage, most powerful ninja in the village (as long as his students weren't visiting, but he'd never admit that) possibly have to fear?

A few minutes later as he came to the door of Kakashi's hospital room, he began to wonder.

"Inoki, report."

The Yamanaka saluted and delivered with the same clinical tone used for interrogation reports. Not a good sign.

"Hokage-sama! The subject is displaying highly uncharacteristic trends, including altered speech pattern, posture, and situational presence and social interaction. This includes an inexplicable speech tic and highly concerning report-reaction dissonance."

Hiruzen's brow furrowed. "What is the report?"

For the first time Hiruzen had seen in many, many years, Inoki hesitated. One eyebrow leapt up skeptically on the Sandaime's aged forehead. Inoki gave in.

"According to second-hand information from the immediate witnesses, he claims that Jiraiya-sama has been dead between seven and eight years, and Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina have been dead for twenty-four years. He has also indicated that he expected Senju Tsunade to be visiting the Kage Summit, quote, 'pretending to be retired with the other old-timers.' It's unclear as yet what his reasoning might be, but right now our best guess is some kind of body-switch jutsu and causing deliberate confusion."

He finished with the same clinical tone he'd begun with, but his eyes were tight and his mouth set in a pinched expression that spoke volumes about his feelings on the matter. Hiruzen couldn't blame him.

Kakashi was the youngest member of Konoha's active forces— ever. They'd tried to keep him as a kind of secret weapon for the village, only sending him to the front very rarely, always under henge, and always with Minato. The Yellow Flash had already had a zero-survival reputation, but the son of the White Fang had contributed more to that record than he would ever get credit for, for all the right reasons. Everyone involved had done their best to keep it that way. If somehow they'd failed, if someone had managed to infiltrate through their greatest secret's mind... It would mean that the war was already over. They just didn't know it yet.

"What other theories have been stated?" _Something_ else had to be possible. _Anything_.

Inoki looked reluctant. "Jiraiya-sama has been inquiring about the possibility of an accidental body-switch, in which case we would need to find another person in the village, probably within my own clan, experiencing similar symptoms. Minato-san believes his student may be under the influence of some sort of genjutsu. Kushina-san has suggested _time travel_ , of all things. And Tsunade-hime has proposed some kind of accelerated Survivor's Coma triggered by the decision to visit his father's grave, or some other event that led to that action."

"And your evaluation of those theories?"

"Jiraiya-sama's is the most unlikely, as it does not explain the expectation of certain deaths in the past. Minato-san's and Tsunade-hime's suggestions are possible, and perhaps the most likely."

That was troubling, if expected. Hiruzen waited for an evaluation of the final theory, but none was forthcoming.

"And Kushina's theory?" He prompted, and watched the head of the Yamanaka remain carefully unflustered.

" To be frank, Hokage-sama, Kushina-san's theory presents an... _interesting_ situation. What is the extent of your information regarding the Survivor's Coma phenomenon?"

Hiruzen frowned, calling up vague, clinically-delivered outlines of cause, symptom, and study reports from the distant dredges of the mental file in his memory he'd faux-affectionately labeled _useless paperwork._ "Usually triggered by what most would consider an only mildly traumatic event, it most commonly consists of an unconscious period of two to thirty days, during which the patient experiences something of a self-inflicted genjutsu involving the deaths of multiple loved ones as a direct result of the patient's own imagined actions. The Survivor's Coma may play out over the course of several years or even decades in the patient's mind, or only a few days, causing some time dissonance and confusion upon awakening," he recited. "Have I missed anything?"

That a man as professional as Inoki actually gave in to his desire to shift uncomfortably spoke volumes about the magnitude of his response. "Nothing that would be found in the official report published in the Clinician's Diagnoses handbook, Hokage-sama," the Yamanaka clan-head stated professionally. Hiruzen got the impression that had Inoki possessed a single degree less self-control he would have been either slumped over, mournfully dejected, or sweating senbon by now. He raised an imperious eyebrow. Not threatening; not yet.

"And the unofficial report?"

In any other scenario, it would have been terribly amusing to watch as a small part of the notoriously vain Yamanaka Inoki— of either his pride, professionalism, or sense of self-worth; Hiruzen wasn't entirely sure which— curled up sadly and died right before his very eyes. He almost thought he saw the man mentally bid it a somber, tearful farewell at the docks as its casket was loaded aboard the ship making passage to oblivion with as much ceremonious fanfare as could be contained within a single heavenward glance. "The unofficial one includes reports that patients of the Survivor's Coma phenomenon who return to the field after being cleared for duty often exhibit an inexplicable and uncanny knowledge of events surrounding certain missions."

It took a moment for Hiruzen's brain to register the words Inoki was very pointedly _not_ saying. He blinked as it hit him and did a double-take.

"... So Kushina and Tsunade's theories may not exactly be mutually exclusive?"

Inoki winced at the plainness of the statement. The _HNKS_ _ *****_ _Inoki_ was launched. "It's not really a generally accepted, or even widely researched idea. There haven't been all that many confirmed instances of true Survivor's Comas in recorded history, and although we've had more since the founding of the village, it's not exactly an easy phenomenon to understand even without the additional complicating factor."

Hiruzen wasn't sure whether he wanted more to sigh or snicker. Both seemed highly appealing at the moment. Instead, he nodded formally and straightened, placing a hand on the doorknob. "I'll keep that in mind."

Inoki nodded and stayed back as the Hokage turned the knob to enter the room; he needed some time to recover from his loss.

The first thing the Sandaime noticed about the room was the tension singing through the stances of several of Konoha's finest. Two of the infamous Sannin, Konoha's Yellow Flash, and the widely feared Red-Hot Blooded Habanero all stood or sat silently in their places around the room, not looking at each other.

It was worse than a funeral.

Nodding to the fully-grown occupants of the room, Hiruzen came to stand at the bedside of his youngest secret weapon. In the hospital bed, the silver hair, heavy eyelids, and prematurely scarred hands were, of course, familiar— almost disconcertingly so, due to the casual slump of the boy's normally ramrod-straight spine. The (typically) masked face of the son of Konoha's White Fang rested on a single small hand, which was propped in turn on one bony knee, which rested alarmingly on the foot of the opposite leg, mirroring it's fellow. The last time anyone had seen this particular boy sitting criss-cross-applesauce was probably when he was two or three.

Hiruzen felt altogether suddenly very, very old.

"Hokage-sama," Minato began, straightening as he turned to face his leader only to be cut off by a 'stop' gesture from the aging man.

This required careful consideration. If this truly had been a very, very brief version of a Survivor's Coma, there were a dozen different issues that were likely to crop up with attempting to reason with this extremely altered version of Kakashi. And adding in the strange factor of the possible _time-travel_...

Honestly, at this point he was just hoping this wouldn't blow up in his face.

"Leave us."

Nobody moved for a moment in the stunned silence. Then, shockingly, all four of the jounin in the room stood and left without comment, the door clicking shut behind them with a terrifying suggestion of finality. Hiruzen allowed himself a brief glance at the ceiling to check for intervening angels, but none were presently visible; that probably implied that the out-of-character behavior was a reflection of extreme stress and mental duress, but more pressing things prevented the Sandaime from offering the universe more than a wince and a quick prayer for the poor souls of his Psych professionals. His gaze quickly returned to the source of all his looming difficulties.

The silence stretched.

"Maa, Hokage-sama, are you actually going to ask me anything, or are we just going to sit here staring at each other for hours?"

Blinking, Hiruzen tried to force himself to relax and pulled up a chair next to the bed, though he didn't sit quite yet; he wanted to maintain his position of relative power for the moment even as he made preparations for its loss. He took a deep breath and began the conversation.

"You are not the Hatake Kakashi that we know."

Looking mildly surprised at the old man's directness, the person in the bed observed him quietly for a few tense seconds before answering.

"I'm not."

A statement. Some of the air hissed from the Sandaime's lungs before he could stop it; the rest followed as the comment was continued:

"Not quite, anyway."

It took all of his self control not too simply collapse into the chair next to him and put his head in his hands. He thought he'd hidden it rather well, but Not-Hatake-Kakashi communicated otherwise quite plainly with his eyes, looking pointedly from Hiruzen to the chair and back. Taking the hint, the Sandaime pulled it closer and sat.

Raising an eyebrow, Not-Hatake appeared to take an obvious moment to gather his thoughts before speaking— minus the part where he followed it up with actually speaking. Hiruzen waited for almost a minute before prompting the intruder.

"Well? I presume you have an explanation as to why you are inhabiting the body of my most classified non-ANBU operative."

Not-Hatake sighed and took another extensive moment before speaking.

"I have theories. That's the extent of my explanation. If I had to put my money on anything— and I'm just thinking out loud here— I would say I'm likely experiencing either the most extensive prank ever laid on me, including a self-reaffirming genjutsu which manifests in all senses (which would, of course, imply that you only exist in my head and I'm talking to my own delusions) or else Genma and Raidou were right about their so-called 'research' into the Survivor's Coma phenomenon and I've fallen victim to some extremely powerful, unidentifiable being whose whimsy decided that the peace I've been pretending to accustom myself to in the wake of the Fourth Ninja World War was too peaceful and thus brought me to some alternate dimension in which I am nearly three decades younger than I last remember being. Options I should probably consider but am currently refusing to include the possibility that we were in fact _not_ successful in saving the world and winning the Fourth Shinobi World War, but that I have somehow gained self-awareness in the midst of Kaguya's Eternal Tskyoumi (which would again imply that you are part of my irrational imagination and I am speaking to my own insanity) and that she has shaken things up to throw me off. This seems less likely, though, given that I only became suspicious of such a thing _after_ finding myself in this odd situation."

Hiruzen opened his mouth to ask about several concerning items, but Not-Hatake still had more to say.

"This is also presuming that I'm not having a relapse of the insanity I suffered from after being forcibly removed from ANBU (oh would you look at that, another theory in which you don't actually exist) triggered by sheer boredom, and that I'm not just dreaming. So, really, given that most of the above options involve your being a figment of my imagination, I can imagine which you prefer and have already most likely decided upon, but given that everything I experience is from my own perspective, you have no proof that you are alive and standing before me except for your own belief, which is rendered invalid by again being filtered through my own perception."

Hiruzen blinked. Thrice.

Maybe-Kakashi stared back at him.

"That's— er, very…" a moment was lost in the search for an applicable word, "Straightforward of you."

Still-Maybe-Not-White-Fang's-Son shrugged frankly. "Well, I thought you'd appreciate the honesty."

Another moment of silence passed, stretching beyond the confines of 'awkward' and straight into the territory of 'intensely uncomfortable and impossible to escape.'

Finally, Hiruzen asked, "Do you have any way of disproving any of those— ah, _theories?_ "

The silvertop looked contemplative. "Well, I've been continuously disrupting my chakra at irregular intervals since waking, plus I managed to zap myself with lightning chakra very quickly while everyone was waiting for your arrival, so I think I can rule out the genjutsu. Kaguya seems more omnipotent and omniscient than to accidentally allow my awareness to slip. I can't really make a case against the boredom-inspired insanity except that I have yet to experience either phantom sensations from interaction with the real world or any brief moments of lucidity to counter the apparent reality of this one. So I'm gonna go with Genma and Raidou's 'mysterious being' theory and go ahead and act as though I'm waking up from an uncanny Survivor's coma. Although our observed instances throughout the war have implied that it's more of a mental time-travel deal than any kind of delusions… how long was I unconscious?"

Hiruzen decided to let the madman babble for a little longer. Hopefully he'd get some idea of what on earth he was supposed to do. "Less than six hours."

"Indeed," he nodded, "That seems consistent with the adjustments we were informed of during the space of the war… perhaps a lingering effect… ?"

As the apparently-not-a-seven-year-old-but-still-probably-Hatake-Kakashi descended into the technobabble of seal analysis that Hiruzen had given up on understanding long ago when Jiraiya had still been fresh from under his tutelage and new to his apprenticeship under the Shodaime's wife. Instead of listening in, he leaned back and focused on taking deep breaths; now would definitely _not_ be the proper time to panic.

Apparently, things were about to get very, _very_ messy.

 ***HNKS: Hi no Kuni Ship (kind of like USS— United States Ship— or HMS— His/Her Majesty's Ship**

 **Sorry for the long wait, I'm trying to get more consistent on this... I'm kind of finally getting things under control? Maybe? So as long as I can get a semester's worth of homework and tests for three classes done in the next five weeks, you should (hopefully) be seeing more of me relatively soon.**

 **Please review, as always... and if it's not too selfish, I'd love it if people would at least glance through my other works to see if they're interested in seeing anything else like them. Most of what I've put up here is old— like, four plus years old— but I'd still like to see what people are interested in reading.**

 **See you soon? Maybe?**

 **~Rick**


	6. ANNOUNCEMENT

Guys, gUYS GUYS I JUST FIGURED MY LIFE OUT!

So, it's kind of a really long story that covers my entire life up to this point, but basically there's this really obscure and not very talked about form of gluten intolerance in which basically the antibodies in a person's body that are supposed to attack like viruses and evil bacteria and stuff think that gluten is an enemy when it enters the bloodstream, and then they can't tell the difference between gluten cells and brain cells so they start eating your brain. And I have apparently had this my entire life, which means that every time I was enjoying a donut or sandwich or whatever I was literally having my brain eaten alive as I incurred permanent brain damage. Fortunately, kids' brains are really awesome and have a lot of what is called _neuroplasticity,_ which can be summed up as being able to compensate for the terrible things that happen to their brain. So I would eat gluten all day, and then my brain would fix itself during the night. Every day and every night. Which is pretty impressive, given how little I've slept for the majority of my life.

ANYWAY, so I had this really major car accident two years ago, where I got conked on the head really hard and like went blind in one eye for a while and stopped being able to recognize people and voices and things and it was really exciting and all that. But you know what else it did? It stopped my brain from being able to rebuild as much and as fast as it could before. Which means that for the last two years, I've been acting progressively more and more like my grandfather who has progressive dementia. It got to the point that I could barely introduce myself because I couldn't remember my own name half the time! It was kind of awful (understatement). But then we figured out this gluten thing and now I've been gluten free for like three or four weeks and for the first time since the accident I've suddenly been able to do exciting things like _count to ten_ and _add 4+5._ I've even been less depressed/anxious/suicidal since going off gluten! It's been so amazing.

But why do you care? Here's what else has happened as a result of this:

I

ACTUALLY

HAVE

A

 **PLOT**

NOW!

Because now that my brain isn't eating itself alive, I can now expend mental energy on things like _where is this story even going_ and _how do I get rid of this ooc-ness?_

And I've got it figured out.

Now, this means it'll be a few months until next update while I do silly things like graduate high school and flesh out story and stuff, and for that I sincerely apologize. But for the first time since starting these stories, I now have the confidence and ability to say: **_they will be completed._**

The writing voice will probably be a little different, and when I come back with the new and improved _completed story_ it won't be exactly what it was before. But now that I've been able to actually flesh out and solidify things in my mind that will hopefully make several universes make more sense, the story will be much more rich and deep. At least, that's the idea.

Thank you all so much for your patience and support, and I really am sorry for the delay, but I hope it'll be worth it to you and I both in the end!

—Rick


End file.
